Turbulence (Stone Barrington #46)(20)

“Me? What for?”

“Because I want you to deliver a message to Mr. Owaki, and the messenger must be someone the man will believe. He tends to put more faith in people who have defeated him in some way, and there aren’t very many of them about.”

“Lance, I’m not flying to Scotland in a C-130,” Stone said.

“Then call your friend, Mike Freeman, at Strategic Services; I believe his corporate Gulfstream is flying to London tomorrow.”

“If you promise not to send Joe Box with me.”

“I promise.”

“Perhaps Ms. Smith would like to accompany you,” Lance said. “She would make nice camouflage at dinner.”

Stone ignored the comment. “What is the message you’d like delivered?”

“I’d like you to tell Selwyn Owaki that there will be a car and an escort waiting for him outside the restaurant, and that every possible exit is covered.”

“And where is Mr. Owaki going?”

“You needn’t concern yourself with his destination.”

“Why can’t Joe Box deliver your message?”

“He tends to become flustered under pressure, and that would tip off Owaki that something was up.”

“I’m sorry, Lance, but I won’t fly across the Atlantic to deliver your message.”

“Stone, if you will do this for me, I promise something very good will happen to you.” He squeezed Stone’s shoulder. “Really, I need your help.”

Stone had had many requests from him in the past, but Lance had never before promised him anything, and he sensed that the man really did need his help. “Oh, all right,” Stone said.

“Will you be staying at your new house in London? The one you bought from Dame Felicity Devonshire?”

“You do get around, don’t you, Lance? Yes, I suppose I will. The designer has finished with it.”

“Thank you, Stone.”

The two men shook hands, and Stone got back into the car. “Let’s try for home again, Fred.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Kelly, are you sure you want to come home with me?”

“Not if you’d rather I didn’t.”

“Instead, how would you like to fly to London with me tomorrow for a few days?”

“That seems like a very good tradeoff,” she replied. “What clothes will I need?”

“I’m sure you’d know that better than I,” Stone said. “Bring something nice for a fancy restaurant, though.”

“You’re on.”

“Where do you live?”

She handed him a card. “Right around the corner from you,” she said, “in the Creighton Hotel.”

“One moment.” Stone got out his phone and called Mike Freeman.

“Hello, Stone. I suppose you’d like a lift to London tomorrow.”

“Word does get around, doesn’t it? Can you make room for two?”

“Of course. She taxis at nine AM from our hangar at Teterboro. I won’t be aboard.”

“We’ll be there,” Stone said.

The car pulled up in front of Kelly’s hotel. “We’ll pick you up at seven-thirty AM,” he said. “You can get some extra sleep on the airplane.”

She gave him a warm kiss. “I’ll be standing on the sidewalk with my bags, waiting to be snatched up.” Fred opened the door for her, and she went inside.

“You heard the time, Fred?”

“I did, sir. Mr. Cabot had already told me.”





16



KELLY SMITH WAS, as promised, standing on the sidewalk under the hotel’s canopy, with three pieces of luggage beside her. She got into the car and kissed Stone hello while Fred put her bags into the boot of the Bentley.

They were driving against rush hour, so after they had cleared the tunnel, traffic was not too bad. They were delivered to the Strategic Services hangar where attendants took their luggage from the car.

“My, what a lot of airplanes,” Kelly said as they walked through the hangar.

“Yes, the company has quite a flight department. That smaller one over there with the stars on the tail is mine.”

“It doesn’t look all that small,” she said.

“Wait until you see the Gulfstream 600 that we’re flying on,” Stone replied.

“My word,” she said as they emerged from the hangar onto the ramp. “There is a difference, isn’t there?”

A flight attendant led them through the first compartment, which was peopled with the company’s staff who were traveling that day, through two other compartments, to the more private fourth compartment, which contained only two facing seats with a table between them, and a comfortable sofa across the aisle. The attendant put their hand luggage into the overhead compartment and inquired if they would like some refreshments.

“Nothing that will keep me awake,” Stone said. “I’ll have a Buck’s Fizz.”

“What’s that?” Kelly asked.

“The American name is mimosa.”

“Make that two,” she said.

The drinks appeared quickly, and they sipped.

“I’ll bet that sofa turns into a bed,” Kelly said.